


Convergence

by writingramblr



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Compliant, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, First Kiss, Fix-It of Sorts, Idiots in Love, M/M, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, Retelling, Sad Credence Barebone, Smitten Original Percival Graves, The Power Of Love, ding dong the anti witch bitch is dead, fight me this is my h/c, grindelwald's a dick and a liar and he destroyed my crops, lots of interrupting each other b/c, minor emotional handjobs, my cup overrunneth with feels, of certain shitty events, seer graves, some bullshit friends some bullshit ™, suffering ™, who's homophobia i dont know them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 12:43:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11806239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: Seer!Graves manages to break free, and go after Grindelwald before he can do too much damage, and potentially harm Credence, things progress from there.





	Convergence

**Author's Note:**

> literally reading through the script this AM and i decided fuck it imma write another fix it, kiss my ass joanne.

A flash of white and then darkness falls, Graves starts, and jerks against his bindings, chains magical and painful, stinging like lashes and burning like fire.  _ Credence is in great danger. _ The obscurus is more than close to him, it’s in the church with him. Grindelwald has seen the same thing, and grins wickedly at him, before cooing.

“Your lovely boy is going to lead me to the child, and then, the world will be ours.”

Graves flinches away from the maniac’s touch, a faux comforting gesture. He’s already stolen his memories, manipulated his mind, and he’s going to hurt Credence. Somehow, he’s seen it happening. 

Graves waits until the man has gone, wearing his face and twisting it into a terrifying mask, before he closes his eyes, and concentrates. All can see is Credence.

His lovely, sad face, his look of wonder at the blooming flower Graves had brought to life that afternoon in the diner, his gasp, awe filled when Graves first healed his hands, skin knitting back together like it had never been split. 

The icy afternoon he’d warned the boy about the man looming in the shadows, inching ever closer, all up to the day Grindelwald had caught him, distracted, while going home from ensuring Credence would not go back to the church hungry that night, not on his watch.

Warmth began to suffuse his fingertips, but the pain was ebbing away, and the chains heavy on his skin started to vibrate, to fracture.

They shattered after a few moments, and Graves was thrown to the ground, panting for air, flat on his back, and miraculously,  _ free _ .

But there still was much to do. Without a wand, he was half of himself. No wonder he felt so winded. His energy has been split.

Grindelwald’s magic has a trace, like tar, thick and smoky and it lingers in the air long after he’s disapparated. Graves knows better than to try that in his weakened state, so he goes on foot. He knows exactly where the man has gone to, he can only pray he’s not too late, and he’s not even religious. He stumbles every few steps, and nearly falls down the stairs on the way to the street, but no one pays him any mind. A small disillusionment charm luckily takes little effort, and he knows his haggard appearance would fit right in with the other post war stragglers, now called or deemed homeless. 

He makes it a block from the church, only to freeze in horror at the sight of the now crumpled building, reduced to rubble. Something is very, very wrong. The obscurus has been here. The air  _ sings _ with wrongness, with magic driven by anger and fear. Credence… all he can think is  _ ‘let Credence be alive.’ _

That’s all he wants. He’d give his entire life to protect that boy, he knows. Its irrational and stupid and led to his defeat, but Grindelwald is a fool, he actually puts power over compassion, considers fear a tool and ignores the very reason Graves even cares about Credence. Sympathy is a long forgotten emotion to the man, it seems. Cautiously Graves approaches what used to be the doorway, only to halt at once, and remain very quiet, praying he hasn’t been spotted.

Grindelwald is  _ right there _ , kneeling at Credence’s side.

The strangled sobs that leave the boy shatter what remains of Graves’ heart. Has Grindelwald done this? Has he raised his hand to hurt Credence?

Righteous fury nearly overwhelms his own instinct for personal safety, until he listens, and the anger dissipates.

“Where did she go, Credence, the obscurus?”

“Help me, please.”

Graves is struck by a thought, and almost brought to his own knees by the force of another vision, just out of his line of sight, there is another body,  _ not _ felled by Grindelwald’s hand, or his wand. It’s the boy’s mother. The leader of the Second Salemers. The marks on her face… they’re the same as the one’s on the Nomaj Senator. Grindelwald had scoffed about it, bragged that his beautiful creature had destroyed another useless ‘muggle’ and told Graves he wished he’d been able to take credit for it. 

The obscurus had killed twice now. Graves’s veins flood with icy cold dread, and he stares into the darkness in horror. Then his hands tremble at his side, clenching into fists. Oh how he would love to stride over and deck Grindelwald, and sweep Credence far from his deadly grasp, but it would mean certain death for them both, were he to reveal himself so soon. Foolishly, even.

A sounding slap, and Graves startles back to the present. 

Credence goes silent, but for a stray sniffling whimper.

Red fills Graves’s periphery, and his jaw tightens.

“Your sister’s in grave danger, and we need to find her.”

A crack of air, and they’re gone. Graves nearly falls to the ground in relief, feeling as if he’s been held taut as a bowstring, prevented from doing or saying  _ anything. _ He stumbles through the broken bricks and splintered wood from the pews, and catches sight of the body, the woman staring, unseeing, and her hand outstretched. He goes on, deeper into the ruined church, and spots another body, buried under too much rubble to be identified, but for a flash of red hair. The other sister, he thinks. 

How tragic, for the obscurus to accidentally have caused itself further agony. For that has to be what has happened. Somehow, in a fit of rage, the obscurus lashed out, perhaps trying to protect Credence as well, and instead, resulted in more death.

Graves can’t remember seeing the littlest girl interacting with Credence, whether in person or in any visions, but he never spoke badly of her, so he hopes they both make it out alright. He has no idea where they’ve gone, but Graves will follow Grindelwald’s magic and hope for the best.

Out in the street, night and quiet still reign, despite all that has occurred on this cursed block. He walks on, and on, until his feet are now afire from pain and possible splinters lodged in his socks. He moved unthinking among the rubble, and now hates himself for his recklessness. He may be leaving a trail of blood as he goes. The scent is stronger, the smell of smoke and ash and tar heavy in his throat, and he holds his breath, wondering how it could be possible for them not to have wandered very far.

“What is this place?”

He catches the sound of Grindelwald’s voice before he sees them, and hisses out a breath, before slamming into a wall so he can peer around the corner. 

Credence is slowly leading the man towards an abandoned building, not from the lateness of hour, but simply lack of population.

“Ma found Modesty here-”

The words are garbled, and they’ve entered the doorway, leaving Graves’s sight. He sighs, and starts limping closer, wary that if Grindelwald so much as glances back, all will be lost, he’ll see right through his shielding charm.

“-but you said that you could teach me…”

Graves hears a door slam open, and he ducks under the stairwell, certain that every creaking step is Credence, right above him. He moves like a wraith, solemn, defeated.

“I smelled it on you the moment I met you. You have magical ancestry, but no real power. It means you’re unteachable. Your mother’s dead. That’s your reward. I have no further use for you. I’m done with you.”

Graves’s jaw drops at the words, and his mind begins to race. Credence’s potential for magic has been a whim all along anyway, he knows it. It’s no more than an excuse, a lie to himself to help argue for why he’d come to care so much, to want to help, at Goldstein’s request. Yet here, now, Grindelwald is shoving the boy away, his only resource, and worse yet, he’s  _ lied _ to him while wearing Graves’s face, told him he would train him, or try.

How utterly cruel. He wants to tear the man limb from limb in that instant.

The footsteps moved on, and Credence remains there, on the stairs, leaning against the wall. Graves is tempted,  _ so _ sorely tempted to step out into the light, to reveal himself and assure the boy it’s alright, everything will be okay,  _ he is really there now _ , but… his only advantage is the element of surprise. He can only watch, and wait.

Grindelwald was talking, he could hear his own voice, dulcet tones vibrating down through the floorboards. Credence, bless him, finally began to move away, following slowly behind the man, and Graves could ease forward, and tentatively climb up after them both.

“-Out you come.”

Graves crested the stairs, and saw no sign of the man or Credence, and suddenly felt a touch concerned. What if it was all a trap? Was he about to be cursed? Thrown back into chains? He put himself flat against the wall, and looked down the dark hallway, desperate for  _ anything _ to happen. The anticipation was murder all on its own.

A jingle.

Cracks appear on the ceiling, and dust sifts down to the floor, before the whole building gives a great shudder, and a wall collapses opposite him. He can see Credence, through the cloud of dust, and he looks simply  _ murderous _ . Instead of being alarmed, he’s mildly impressed. The fragile creature he’s known, he never imagined the boy could look so... fierce.

“I trusted you...I thought you were different, I thought you were my... _ friend _ .”

“-Credence… it seems I owe you an apology…”

Graves’s grits his teeth, and shifts around, trying to stay hidden, despite the poor angle, and the obvious fact that is, the obscurus isn’t  _ near _ Credence, it _ is _ him.

Grindelwald is continuing to talk, trying to soothe the boy, but he wasn’t having it. Graves couldn’t have done or said anything to provide comfort, he knew, but he was still far too proud of Credence, without much rational reason.

“I don’t think I want to, Mister Graves.”

He winced at the tone, but bit back a cheer at the unearthly roar that sounded, before a horrifying blast of dark magic surged forward, crashing through one of the other still standing walls, leaving both Graves and Grindelwald behind.

Only for a moment.

A snap sounded, and Grindelwald had gone.

Graves sagged against the wall, trying to calm his suddenly thundering heartbeat.

Credence is the obscurus, Credence  _ is _ magical, Credence is still in danger.

MACUSA will be out to kill him, not stun and ask questions later. He sighs. Some days, he despises what he does, protecting security at the expense of innocent children with potential magic heritage. 

Grindelwald may be a monster, but he’s exposed a very real problem with MACUSA, besides being able to impersonate a high ranking official, he’s preying on starving and weak children simply for their power. If MACUSA didn’t ignore half’s or nomaj born magical children, this would never have happened.

Graves continues on, with no real direction as to where or why, but he’s following  _ Credence’s  _ trail of power now, and just before he gets to the subway, he spots the President herself, moving among a cluster of Aurors. He cannot approach her, but surely she knows by now? She’d stun him at once, and lose her best advantage. Mercy lewis, she frustrates him. She hasn’t noticed in a week that he’s been replaced. She’s still rampaging against Goldstein, who he spots at once, slipping under a barrier on the opposite wall as he does. 

Credence is very near, and the time of Graves’s vision from  _ many _ weeks ago, is almost there. He saw the boy surrounded by darkness, and with Aurors raising their wands, only him standing between them and Credence. Little did he know, the version of himself in the vision wasn’t him at all. Goldstein is there, somewhere, as well as a red haired man who reminds him of an old friend, very faintly.

_ Theseus  _ Scamander.

He shakes his head, and proceeds down the subway tunnel, prepared at any moment to be attacked, though he’s concentrating on being disillusioned, more than anything else. Someone is talking to Credence, and Grindelwald has the drop on them. Graves considers, weighing his options. 

Protect Credence, or distract Grindelwald? If only there were a way to do both, he thinks. 

The redhead dodges the curse Grindelwald throws at him, and Credence scurries away, deeper into the subway tunnel, and Graves is faintly aware he may be risking everything by following, but he does. Credence stands, hunched over in the tunnel, sobbing as Grindelwald duels surprisingly on the defensive with the redhead, who Graves is prepared to bet money  _ is _ a Scamander.

“Credence…”

He tries, but his voice is raspy from disuse, and his face is dark with stubble. He doesn’t look much like himself at all, he knows. Before Credence can turn, or even try, bright light flashes as a train appears around the bend and Graves’s stomach drops to the ground. Magic sweeps Credence aside to land him sprawling on the platform, and Graves’s heart begins to beat once more. He clings to the shadows, clenching his fists and his jaw to keep from running to the boy’s side.

Grindelwald and the Scamander continue the duel, but Goldstein has begun to descend the steps, and she spots Credence, who now is dissolving into smoke, while his eyes go white, rolling back in his head.

An awful sound, like a wail through a shoddy telephone wire fills Graves’s ears, and only halts when he sees her.

“Credence!”

Grindelwald starts at the sight of Goldstein, and throws another spell her way, but Graves blocks it for her, while she’s distracted by Credence.

If the man notices he’s been deflected, he doesn’t comment. Now everyone stares at Credence, who has shifted into a terrifying dark cloud of ash and smoke, with sharp jagged edges, what looks like teeth, and there’s a hint, only a hint of the boy’s true face beneath the horror.

“You need to stop this now. I know what that woman did to you. I know that you’ve suffered. This man, he’s using you.”

“I want you to be free, Credence. Don’t listen to these two. They-”

Graves reaches out, praying for strength, as he summons his wand. 

It’s a long shot, but Grindelwald’s never been so distracted, or viciously outnumbered, and he can  _ feel _ Seraphina getting closer, before he’s even spotted another Auror descending the stairs.

“ _ Accio _ .”

He speaks it as loud as he dares and calls to it, while with the last vestiges of his strength, he prays for mercy.

Credence sees him.

Truly,  _ sees _ him, and the shadow retreats, only a little, teeth retracting, and form stilling, a split second before ebony and silver fly through the air, and Graves catches it.

“ _ Protego!” _

Graves yells at the same time as Grindelwald snarls, and holds up an empty hand to curse him, perhaps try to kill him, for real.

Behind the shield, he staggers, but remains upright, clutching his wand with white knuckled fingers.

“Director Graves?”

Goldstein turns, just seconds before Scamander shoves her to the ground, yelling for her to duck.

Graves can hear the Aurors shouting something, but Credence has noticed something is wrong, with two men who look like Graves in the same area, and only one who holds his wand. 

Before anything more can be said or done, Scamander whistles and a blue and green blur soars up and circles Grindelwald, as if it could sense that  _ he’s _ the imposter, somehow, and the next thing Graves knows, he’s been hit with something from the back.

He winces as he falls, but it’s not the worst thing that’s happened to him all week, as he ends up staring into Goldsteins’ face, and her uncertain tone makes him grimace.

“Director?”

“What is going on?”

“Madame President, I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. You’ve just got the man who’s been pretending to be me all week.”

Graves opens his mouth to swear, and finds his voice gone.

_ Tongue-tying  _ curse.

He glares daggers as best he can, but that’s not the worst of it.

Aurors have opened fire on Credence, as Goldstein shouts for them to stop. 

“You’ll frighten him!”

“No, stop!”

He closes his eyes, and grips his wand till the wood squeaks under his fingers, and casts another shield charm randomly, but only thinks of Credence.

_ Protect him _ .

He trusts his magic but he doesn’t trust the President.

Another whistle, and a soft murmur.

‘ _ Revellio _ ’

Audible gasps.

Graves blinks open his eyes and finds at last, everyone else is seeing the same thing he’s been forced to watch, Grindelwald’s disguise melts away, and he’s left standing there, tall, blond, and with his mismatched eyes, stolen from another Seer. Graves had gotten lucky, given his life and face, in exchange for keeping both his eyes. But he’d been forced to share any and all pertinent memories as it was, with _ out _ much choice.

“Merlin’s beard.”

_ Definitely _ a Scamander.

“Yes well done Madame President. Well done indeed. He tried to have us both killed.” Goldstein bites out, sounding livid.

Graves listened, stunned, watching as the President lifted a hand to stay the Aurors wands, and the howling winds died down, leaving Credence huddled behind Goldstein and Scamander, while Grindelwald was still trapped inside some sort of amber cocoon, kneeling across from them. 

“In light of recent events, you have my apologies Goldstein. Graves, can you hear me?”

He blinked, once, twice, and then glared again, opening his mouth to yell, finding only a whisper escape.

“You’re blinded by your own-”

“I’ll thank you not to finish that sentence. Aurors, take him away.”   
  


“No!”

Graves did his best to sit up, and then flicked a sticking charm at the group.

“Sera… one of them is with him. Helping him. They hit me.”

His voice slowly recovered, going from a hiss to a croak, and Goldstein finally caught on, moving over to help him to his feet, her arm firm over his back.

“Madame President… I think Grindelwald’s  _ confounded _ someone. Both of the executioners were  _ imperiused _ .”

“Mercy lewis, is there anything he  _ hasn’t _ done?”

“Committed outright murder.”

“Leave his brain…”

“Speaking of which Mister Scamander…”

“Fuck. I knew it.”

“M-mister Graves?”

“Who is this?”

“The obscurial, Madame President.”

“The one you got yourself suspended over, Miss Goldstein?”

“Gladly ma’am. I’d do it again.” Blessedly, she remains silent on the fact that he  _ asked _ her to risk her job for him.

“He’s not dangerous, unless threatened.” Scamander added.

Too many people were talking and it was making Graves’s headache. He didn’t realize he’d shut his eyes and passed out until he opened them again, and found himself surrounded by white. The hospital wing, of course.

He sat bolt upright and started as he noticed another person in the room, curled up in a chair, a fluffy blanket draped over them, as well as a dark swathe of fabric beside the chair.

His coat.

He inhaled deeply, and could only make out his own faint cologne and barely a hint of smoke. Grindelwald was nowhere near, but that was truly the obscurus sitting across from him.

“What happened?”

His voice was back, as restored as it could be, and Credence blinked his own eyes, before stirring properly and catching sight of him.

“Oh! You’re up.”

“You’re alive.”

“There was… there was an awful argument. I thought they might throw me in jail. But Mister Scamander threatened an international incident, for the almost sentencing to death…”

Graves managed a smile. Theseus must have taught him that. Blackmail was always the quickest way to get the President’s attention, even if it was deserved.

“And… Grindelwald?”

Credence’s sharp cheekbones colored with a blush,

“He’s the one in jail right now.”

“Good.”

“Why are you  _ here _ ?” He knows how rude it sounds, but frankly, he’s amazed he has any company. Much less the fact he’s not in chains, but from the government rather than his captor.

“I wanted to see you, but they said you were still out. Mister Graves… it’s been three days since the subway.”

Graves inhaled sharply, and tried to think back through his memories, but all he kept running into was the last vision he had, Credence exploding in a sea of white and black scraps of smoke, only for him to stare after in heart wrenching sadness.

Yet he was fine. The boy was right there, in front of him. Not quite smiling, but looking better than… well, ever.

“Credence… I’m so so-”

Credence’s hand shot out, and over to grab his hand, squeezing it tightly. It was the most forward gesture he’d ever imagined the boy might do. His words halted in his throat, and he dropped his gaze from Credence’s dark liquid eyes to the back of his scarred hands.

“Mister Graves…  _ I’m _ sorry I didn’t know it wasn’t you… I wish I’d done things differently, been more-”

Graves sat up all the way, ignoring the aches and pains and screaming muscles to pull Credence into his arms, and clasp a hand to the back of his neck, fingers stroking over the short hairs.

“It’s okay. All that matters is that you’re safe.”

“How did you find me?” Credence gasps against his neck, crushed into him now, and reluctantly, Graves pulls back, away, 

“I saw you were in danger, and so I followed him. I couldn’t let him harm you.”

“Y-you did? How?”

Graves bites his lip, worrying it until the pain distracts him from the loveliness of Credence’s concerned lines of his face.

“Do you remember when I told you about someone who was dangerous, closing in on New York, after the obscurus, the child who was… well,  _ you _ as it turns out?”

Credence nods, and Graves can’t resist touching him again, now that he  _ can _ . Cupping his cheek, rubbing over the usually chilled skin, watching it bloom with color once again. His eyes drop to Credence’s lips, as if he knows, he opens them, wetting the plush bottom one with a dart of his pink tongue.

Oh.

Graves’s heartbeat stutters in his chest, as his groin stirs at the instant flash forward in his mind, a flicker of a vision that would make  _ anyone _ grow hot under the collar.

“Mister Graves?”

A confused whisper, and Graves wants to drown in this moment, not worry about the future or what legal ramifications that ravishing the poor boy in his hospital bed will lead to. Instead, he steels himself and lays back down, looking away from Credence to somewhere safe, the ceiling will do, as he grits his teeth.

“I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay. The magic inside you protected you well enough it seems.”

“But… I’m grateful for your help. When he told me I was unteachable, useless, I… think I knew in that moment it wasn’t  _ you _ . You would never say something so… cruel.”

Graves stilled, and tried not to get his hopes up too high, but somehow, they’d had the same thought, come to the say conclusion in so little time.

“Mister Graves, please,  _ look _ at me.”

Graves wouldn’t deny the boy anything, not a one. He knows he’ll still  _ die _ for him if necessary.

“What is it, my boy?”

“Mister Graves… can I stay with you?”

He blinked.

“Here? I don’t see why not… the night nurses may kick you out at-”

“No… I mean, I have no home now. The church… I destroyed it.”

“They won’t, uh,  _ they  _ don’t know… do they?”

“What? How dangerous I am? I think they might.”

“Dangerous? No.  _ Powerful _ .”

Graves smiled, finally using the long neglected muscles, and Credence blinked, before two perfect tears slipped down his cheeks.

“Oh… you say it like it’s a good thing. Like it’s mine. Not something to be taken, used. Not like  _ him _ .”

“Because you’re a marvel, a wonder, that you’ve survived as long as you did, never letting your magic use  _ you _ , only you it.”

“I’ve lost control before… I didn’t mean to kill that man…”

“I-self defense is still very much-”

“But it wasn’t! I hated him for what he said. I killed him because I could. I’m, I’m a monster.”

Credence suddenly hid his face in his hands, and further tears followed as he bent over the bed and sobbed into the sheets, turned away from Graves.

He could only pet over the boy’s shoulders, letting him grieve as best he could.

“I think you know I don’t agree with that assessment Credence, you’re anything but. You just need to learn to control your magic a little-”

Before Graves could say or do anything more, Credence was sitting back up and pressed against him, pinning him onto the bed, cheeks damp with his tears, and tasting of the salt from them. 

Credence was  _ kissing _ him.

Something he’d only dreamed of, or seen potential visions of, not counting the one very lewd image from a few minutes back.

“Oh…”

Credence broke off with a gasp, as well as a look of horror.

“I’m so sorry, Mister Graves, please forgive me.”

He blinked, and then sat up just enough to brush his lips against the boy’s once more.

“Don’t. Don’t call yourself anything wrong for this. I think my affections and my weakness for you should be obvious enough.” 

He wraps his arms around the boy’s slender shaking form, and he knows that if he wanted to get away, he could. No power on earth could stop Credence, or force him to do anything he didn’t want to do.

“Mister Graves… I’ve, I’ve  _ never _ felt like this for anyone, it’s not proper. It’s indecent…”

Graves opens his mouth to argue, but he halts at the feel of the boy’s hip digging into his stomach, but of course, the angle’s all wrong, that’s not it at all, that’s… it’s… 

“Credence, you’re  _ hard _ .”

“Yes, I’m so-”

Another kiss shushes him better than Graves could have managed, and he lowers a hand to slip between their bodies, gliding his fingertips over the obscene bulge in the boy’s trousers, fighting a groan.

Credence trembles over him, and Graves doesn’t think he’s ever felt so close to powerless in his life. He flicks one hand to the door, feels the surge of energy it takes to cast a silencing charm with a locking spell, and then kisses Credence in earnest once more, rubbing his palm over the entire length of the boy’s cock. The mere thought of it makes his mouth water.

“Oh-h-h… sir, you can’t…”

“I can. If you want me to. Tell me to stop, and I will.”

He aches, almost  _ throbs _ at the notion that he can  _ make _ a vision a reality, change the location, and somehow Credence still maintains the upper hand.

“It feels… like  _ magic _ .”

He chuckles before he can stop himself, stroking a hand over the expanse of the boy’s back through his shirt, feeling every ridge and dip of his spine a place he wants to map with his tongue. Mercy, there’s no help for him. He’s well and truly gone for this boy.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

“You are.”

“Over these… yes. Or I could put my hand on you. Let you rut into my fingers, cover me with your seed, steal those pretty lips once more, and-”

“Yes, yes, please.” Credence’s voice breaks on a sob, his pleading the most lovely thing Graves has ever heard in his long miserable life.

“I’ve got you.”

Graves does exactly that, kissing Credence with an innate fierceness that hardly befits a man of his stature and age, but he’s eager and painfully hard too, thrusting up against the boy’s stuttering hips, spilling into the pathetic excuse of a hospital gown. Just moments after, he feels warmth slicking his fingers when Credence’s cock pulses in his hand as his lips part on a soft moan, and Graves doesn’t know how, but he never wants to stop hearing that noise, in some form or another. Before Credence can become absorbed with more apologies than Graves needs in a lifetime, he’s magicking away both of the messes, and putting his lips to the sweaty skin of the boy’s neck, possessively licking and nipping over the pale stretch of it, till it matches his flushing cheeks.

“Mister Graves, sir, I don’t know how to th-”

“Stop. Credence. The pleasure was _ mine _ .”

He finally pleads, breathless, and collapses proper back into the bed, as Credence does the same, nuzzling into his neck, and pressing his cheek to right above his slowly settling heartbeat. “Everything’s going to change now, isn’t it?”

Graves pets over his hair, and ruffles it slightly. The cut is unflattering, true, but Credence could catch his eye with a military crew top, he suspects.

“For the better, we can only hope.”

He doesn’t see Credence smile, but the sizzle in the air hints to it, and he dozes off again, lulled by the soothing presence of the sated obscurus and his own still lingering post orgasmic bliss.

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> HP quotes in random spots FTW


End file.
